The Sharp Knife of a Short Life
by Bellerophone
Summary: Not a deathfic, but has that mood to it. A certain song catches Kaito off-guard.


_**Disclaimer: Based on the song "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry (but I recommend the Sam Tsui cover). I own neither Magic Kaito nor this song.**_

…

…

"Hey, Kaito, what did you get for problem twelve?" Aoko asked.

It was a school night; she was sprawled on the floor of Kaito's bedroom, her math textbook open before her and a pencil in her hand. Outside, the sky was dark; the only light in the room came from the lamp on the desk at which Kaito sat, slightly hunched in the lamplight, his head in his hands, earbuds dangling out of one ear, apparently engrossed by his laptop. He didn't respond.

"Oi, Kaito!" Aoko said louder. "Are you listening to me?"

He didn't move.

"Geez…" Aoko got up and stomped over to the desk. "Kaito—!"

He jumped and seemed to notice her for the first time. "Ah….Sorry, Aoko—I—"

Aoko peered closer at his face. "Kaito—are you crying?"  
"NO!" He lurched away from her and nearly fell off his desk chair. "What do you want, anyway?" he glowered.

"I wanted to know what you got for number twelve—" Aoko began. She looked at the screen of his laptop. "What are you listening to?"

"Nothing," he muttered. "I got two sevenths for that one."

Now Aoko wasn't listening. She opened his music player and looked at the song: 'Poker Face' by Lady Gaga. She blinked.

Kaito grinned at her. "What? Did you think I was listening to pervy music?"

But there was something off about his smile. Aoko hit the 'back' button on the player.

The song that came up was "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry.

She yanked out his earphones so the song filled the room:

_If I die young, bury me in satin.  
Lay me down on a bed of roses.  
Sink me in the river at dawn.  
Send me away with the words of a love song._

"Kinda morbid, huh?" Kaito grinned. "I was playing my music library on random and it came up—I hadn't heard it before. I don't think I like it."

_Lord make me a rainbow. I'll shine down on my mother.  
She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors,_

_oh and  
Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no,  
ain't even grey, but she buries her baby._

"Yeah, that part's kinda sad," Kaito said feebly. "…No mention of a dad there. Just a mom." He looked at Aoko, then glanced away. "It made me think of my mom…for some reason."

_The sharp knife of a short life, well,  
I've had just enough time._

Now Aoko looked at Kaito. He had dropped his head into his hands, and was staring fixedly at his desk. His cheeks were quite pale in the harsh spotlight of his desklamp. She wondered what he was seeing, and was suddenly afraid.

"Kaito?"

…

What he was seeing was this:  
The Kaitou Kid, bright against the dark cityscape, his satin cape billowing in the wind behind him as he stood atop a skyscraper in the middle of the city. A small red stone lay in the palm of his upraised hand, his card gun in the other.

"Turn it over, Kid."

This from the mustached leader of a group of men standing on the other side of the roof. They all had guns and cruel hard expressions.

"No."

The leader flicked off his safety. "I won't say it again. Turn it over."

Kid glanced over his shoulder. The streets far below were packed with cheering spectators, but his eyes immediately sought out one figure, a civilian standing inside the police line around the building, next to Inspector Nakamori.

His expression softened as he looked at her. "I've given you a lot of roses," he whispered softly. "Will you bring me some, after this?"

"Kid!"

The Kaitou Kid looked back at Snake.

He raised his card gun and shot the red gem in his hand.

It shattered.

Snake's face twisted in shock, then outrage; he let out a roar of fury, and Kaito smiled faintly as they pulled their triggers—

…

_And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom.  
I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger.  
I've never known love of a woman  
But it sure felt nice when she was holding my hand.  
There's a girl here in town says she'll love me forever—_

"Kaito!"

A tear had certainly just fallen down Kaito's cheek. She clutched his shoulders and shook him. "Kaito, what's wrong?"

He flinched again, then looked up at Aoko just as, from the laptop speakers, came:

_Who would have thought forever could be severed by  
The sharp knife of a short life, well,  
I've had just enough time.  
What I never did is done._

"S-sorry," he stammered. Two spots of color like red roses appeared on his pale cheeks. "I don't know why—It just gets to me—" He dragged a hand over his eyes and grinned. "Geez—just ignore me. I must be overtired or something—"

"Kaito—" Aoko knelt down next to his chair, her hands still on his arm. "Please tell me."

He looked down at her. "Aoko—"

_A penny for my thoughts? Oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar;  
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner._

"Tell me, Kaito," she said firmly.

Kaito hung his head.

_And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singing.  
Funny when you're dead how people start listening._

"I don't know," he said. "It's like…Some things are worth dying for, right? But even if you manage to, you know—to succeed, to accomplish your goal—it was worth it, but… everything else you leave behind…Everything you couldn't do, because that other thing was more important—just a little bit more important—" He looked at her. "I guess—I just didn't think too hard about that."

They fell silent, listening to the chorus again:

_If I die young, bury me in satin.  
Lay me down on a bed of roses.  
Sink me in the river at dawn.  
Send me away with the words of a love song._

Kaito had dropped his head to his desk and pressed his face into his arm. "I'm sorry, Aoko…" His shoulders trembled.

Aoko sat up, still kneeling, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He let out a harsh sob but didn't move.

She laid her head on his neck. "Kaito…" Tears were trickling down her cheeks as well.

He didn't respond, didn't make a sound, but Aoko could feel him crying. She buried her fingers in his hair and held him tightly.

_The sharp knife of a short life, well,  
I've had just enough time._

…


End file.
